The Infinite Prison
by Solosam
Summary: Elsa and Anna discover that their father is still alive, and head to the Southern Isles on a rescue mission. Disaster strikes when an old enemy returns, intent on stopping them from discovering the terrible secret of the Infinite Prison... Love and loyalty are pushed to the brink in the third episode of the "Perfect Diamond World" series.


_ This story immediately follows 'A Perfect Diamond World' and 'A Broken Mirror World.'_

* * *

******Prologue **

"You!" she hissed. "Where is my father?"

"He's inside the vault," Hans confessed.

Overwhelmed with rage, Elsa immediately stabbed him in the leg. Hans fell to one knee, screaming and bleeding. The Snow Queen stood over him, bloodied sword in hand.

"How long has he been here?" she asked.

Hans gripped his leg as tight as he could. His white gloves quickly turned crimson. After a moment, he took a few deep breaths, and looked up at her with his one remaining eye.

"It's not what you think..." he gasped.

She raised the sword to strike him down.

"Elsa!" Anna screamed. "Don't!" She ran up the uneven stairs to meet her sister.

"Why not?" Elsa shouted back, over the crackle of gunfire. "I thought this is what you wanted!"

"I thought I did," Anna said, with tears streaming down her face. "And I'm sorry. But you can't do this... Please don't... It's not worth it."

* * *

**The Infinite Prison**

* * *

Plöner Schloss would have been the epitome of a shining romantic palace, were it not for the hideous pall of sadness that hung over it like an abyssal storm. It was the February of 1820 and Europe rested in something resembling peace. The people of Schleswig lived and died for the Princess. Tonight they would light the lanterns, as they had every year for the past thirty-two years. At first, they hoped the lanterns would draw their Princess back to them. When this came to pass, they lit lanterns in celebration. And when her husband died of typhus in the fall of 1817, they still lit the lanterns in the hope that they would lift her shattered heart. They did not. But Rapunzel, Crown Princess of Prussia and Duchess of Schleswig, did not have the heart to tell them.

Now her father, aged fifty-nine, was old and infirm. Her magic had long since faded, although her beauty had not. There were days when Rapunzel looked in the mirror at her short, dark hair and wondered. In the fourteen years since she had escaped her mother's tower she had never let it grow out again. The very thought of having long hair was intolerable. But there was one gift the ancient crone Gothel had left her. She held it in her hands in a velvet bag, and wondered if there was still magic left in a world of smoke and iron and steam.

"Rapunzel..." Anna said.

The Princess turned, and gasped. She had not seen her friends in thirteen years. And yet, here they were, and they had not aged a day. The sisters both wore their hair up in a peasant's braid halo. Anna wore a fancy green dress, which perfectly complimented her strawberry blonde hair. Elsa stood tall. Regal, even. Her own high-collared gown seemed to sparkle and shimmer when she moved. The ladies in Paris were trending towards increasingly absurd hooped dresses, but Elsa's frost-gossamer dress was almost provocatively tight.

"You look just the same..." Rapunzel gasped, and this troubled her a great deal. She once knew a woman who seldom aged. It did not end well. "You're exactly like I remember you."

"I'm so glad you could see us," Elsa said. "And I'm sorry... sorry we couldn't write earlier."

"It doesn't matter," the Princess replied, wiping the corner of her eye. "I'm just happy you're safe. I heard so many horrible stories. No one knew where you were. It was terrifying."

"Don't worry about it. We were safe the whole time. Mostly. Are you okay?"

Rapunzel nodded, distantly, and offered them each a spot on her sofa. "I got your letters. And I really want to help. The problem is that I can't help you meet the King of Denmark. He won't see me."

"Really?" Anna asked. "What happened?"

"Napoleon happened. Back when he escaped from the island, and Prussia joined the British in putting an end to it. Denmark was on France's side, at the time..."

"Huh. I never figured you to be the kind that gets interested in wars and stuff."

"I'm not a child, anymore," Rapunzel said. "Very soon I'll be Queen of Prussia. People are counting on me." She set the small bag on the coffee table and found a seat for herself. "And I've had a lot of catching up to do."

"What's this?" Anna asked, reaching for the trinket. Rapunzel's hand landed on it first.

"Hold on," she said. "I need to know what I'm getting in to."

Elsa gave the Princess a funny look.

"Things are different now," Rapunzel explained. "Life is harder. I want to help you, I really do. But I have to think three steps ahead now. I need to know where this is going."

"We just want to find our father," Elsa explained.

"And what then? Are you going to return the king to Arendelle? That will upset a lot of people."

"No..." she replied, shaking her head. "We're never going back. The past is in the past."

Rapunzel stared deep into her eyes. They were practically glowing, even in the dim candlelight; sparkling shades of blue within blue within blue. Rapunzel always considered herself an excellent judge of character. And now, for the first time in forever, she hoped she was right.

"Alright," she said, and emptied the bag on the table.

It was a tiny box with a leather lanyard. It was generally square, but the corners were cut diagonally to give it eight unequal sides. The box itself was lacquered black, with gold trim on the edges. The lid bulged outwards, like something had dented it trying to escape. Taking it in her slender hands, Rapunzel opened it. They gazed down at a walrus-bone disk under a lapis lens cut as thin as paper. An arrow, marked by a red fleur-de-lis, drunkenly tilted in circles.

"It's a compass."

"It's broken," Anna observed. And indeed, the compass did not point north. When she held it, the arrow finally decided on a direction. She glanced out the window to see purple skies and a setting sun. West.

"I'm not so sure," Rapunzel explained. "This is supposed to be a relic. It was owned by Gothel, the witch who raised me. I didn't have the courage to go back to my... to _the _tower until after my husband died. There were various magical odds and ends hidden around. This one was owned by a famous pirate a hundred years ago. They say it points wherever you want."

"That doesn't sound helpful," Elsa said.

"No, I mean it points at what you want it to point at. Anything. Anyone. Whatever you want the most, that's where it points."

"So... I want to go back to England?" Anna asked.

"I don't know," Rapunzel said. "Denmark. The Southern Isles. Maybe Ireland. The Americas, for all I know. But whatever you want is out there."

"It's pointing to our father."

"Are you sure?" Elsa asked. She took it from her sister and tested it. Still west.

"What else do we want in life? Gold? Wine? A really big piece of cake? I don't think so."

'Love?' Rapunzel thought to herself. 'Someone to care for me?' They were both young and unmarried, and it struck her as odd that Anna didn't mention it. When they first met, she was practically throwing herself at handsome Princes and soldiers. She would have chalked it up to changing with time... but it in every other respect it looked like they hadn't changed a bit.

"Alright," Elsa said. "How can we repay you?"

"Don't worry about it," Rapunzel said. "It's nothing. To be honest, anything that Gothel owned I'm glad to be rid of. Anyway, are you staying in Germany long? Please tell me you can stay for dinner, at least."

"Sure we can. But after that, we have some other friends we're supposed to meet. I wish we could stay longer."

"Other friends?" Rapunzel asked, "Anyone I'd know?"

* * *

Tycho and Iris lay together in a candlelit bed. She buried her face into a pillow and whimpered quietly as he took her from behind. He was gentle, with a slow rhythm that made the most of every thrust. She was not his conquest. In some ways, she fulfilled years of frustrated desire. She was so very much like his world's Elsa, in almost every way. That she was was from an alternate reality didn't matter the slightest. However much he had thought he was over her, believed it even, when Iris came to him his heart had melted.

Hers never did. Iris had shared his bed for two months, but they weren't together in any sense that mattered. Leaning over her shoulder, he wanted to kiss her lips, but she turned her head away. Her crevice was warm but dry, and the whole event was a little uncomfortable, even. Regardless of what he wanted to feel for her, no one who had actually known a love could really call it 'lovemaking.'

"Are you close?" she asked.

"No, I..." Tycho stopped and sighed. "You know what? Never mind. I'm done."

"You can finish if you want."

"I don't want to," he said, removing himself from her body and reaching for a towel. When he turned his back to her cold, smooth arms wrapped around his shoulders. Iris kissed his neck.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm just not feeling good."

"You don't feel good very often," Tycho said. "I feel like you don't enjoy it at all."

"I'd like it if you went down on me."

"That's all you ever want."

Iris sighed, and pulled away from him. She didn't bother to find clothes. They simply materialized on her body... layers of silk spun out of pure frost. A bottle of wine rested on the table. She drank it straight from the bottle. The room was spare, perhaps even Spartan, but it was good enough for their purposes.

"Did you rent this place or what?" Iris asked.

"Please don't change the subject. Why did you come to me if you don't even like me?"

"Tycho, I do like you." She set down the bottle and knelt in front of him. "I really do. I don't know that I love you. Not yet, at least, but I'm trying. Are you worried that you're doing something wrong?"

"No," he said, standing up and finding his pants. They were wool on the outside, with buckskin on the and inner legs. Jaeger green, of course. In his agitation, he fumbled with the absurd number of buttons it took to secure. Then, giving up, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back. A few moments passed. A few deep breaths.

"Elsa," he began. He only used her real name when he was upset. "Were you ever with a man before me? Or did you only love women?"

"I don't love women," she said, sitting on the bed. "I love Anna. There's a difference. And I was married, briefly, to an Englishman."

"How did that work out?"

"It didn't, but that's not a fair comparison. I didn't love him. I didn't even like him. I just needed his money. I was trying to start over and make a new life for myself."

"So..." Tycho said. "The answer I'm hearing is 'bad.' Look... a few years ago, back before all this happened, I thought I was in love with Elsa. Our – world Elsa. This is confusing."

Iris smiled. Her eyes were starting to tear up. "It is confusing. But I know what you mean."

"I thought I was in love. Then later I realized I only loved the person I thought she was. It was like... I had this imaginary, ideal person in my head that I thought was just perfect, and then I found out the hard way that she didn't match my fantasy. There were a lot of things I didn't know about her."

"I'll say."

"Right, but here's my point... Are you with me because you want to be with me, or are you with me because you've got some imaginary fantasy version of what marriage is supposed to be like?"

Iris bit her lip. "I never said I wanted to marry you."

Tycho held out his arms in a gesture of pure exasperation. "Then what are we doing here? Am I your experiment? Is that what this is?"

"Tycho, no..."

"Because I learned a long time ago that I don't _need_ someone to make me happy."

"But I need you," she said. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I know you don't understand, but I can't be alone. I can't do this by myself. I'm not as strong as she is."

"Can't do what by yourself? What do you mean?"

"Your Elsa! This world's Elsa. I'm not her. I'm not as strong as her. And I can't go through life being by myself." She put her hands on his cheeks, and kissed him. It was long, and deep, and completely fake.

"Elsa," he said, prying her hands away from his face. "If you aren't happy with yourself I can't fix that for you. That's not my job. I can help, but only if you let me. It has to be a two-way deal, though. Now tell me, once and for all... Are you with me because you want to be with me, or are you with me because you need to be with someone and anyone will do?"

"That's not true," she said. Her voice cracked and fresh tears spilled onto her face. "I want to be with you. But I need to tell you something-"

There was a quiet knock at the door.

"Great," he mumbled. "They're early. What were you saying."

"Never mind," she said. "Just put a shirt on. I'll get the door."

* * *

"We need a plan," Anna said.

"Did you bring hot chocolate?" Elsa asked.

"No. I think he's on to that one, anyway. Did you read any of his books?"

"No."

"Okay," Anna said. "While we're at it, what are we going to do about _her?"_

"I don't know. She's me. How do you deal with me when I'm upset?"

"I buy mittens," Anna sighed, and reluctantly knocked on the door.

They waited for a long and uncomfortable minute before Iris answered. Anna never really knew what to say to her. What do you say to your sister-lover's alternate universe clone? Especially if, in that alternate universe, you were kind of a bitch? And for that matter, how do you describe an inter-dimensional relative? Was there was word for that?

Iris didn't make it any easier. She just glanced at the cab pulling away behind them. It was covered in gilded leaf and drawn by snow-white horses.

"You've got to be kidding me," she said. "Please tell me you didn't have the Prussian Princess drop you off at the front door. It's not like people are watching or anything."

"Oh, absolutely not," Anna said. "That would be really dumb."

Elsa started to mumble.

"What's that?"

"I'm counting to ten. Look, are you going to let us in or not?"

The house was small, and humble. It had stucco walls and simple wood furniture. There was an upholstered love seat with a knit shawl thrown over the back. The only decorations were an utterly generic painting of a sailboat and a wooden Bavarian cuckoo clock.

"This can't be Tycho's place," Anna said. "I don't see any guns. Oh, never mind, there's one." She pointed to a unusually short-barreled flintlock resting next to a black rucksack. It was only then that Tycho himself emerged from the next room. He was not quite how she remembered him. His hair was longer, he had shaved his mustache, and he wore a high-collared waistcoat instead of his green jaeger's jacket. But he had not slowed down. He hadn't put on any of the weight she had seen in so many post-war soldiers. If she was hoping for a clue as to what to expect, there was none. He wore an expert poker face. And, unlike Iris, he was not going to be the first to speak. Uncomfortable.

"Tycho," Anna said. "There's only one thing I have to say to you... and I'll let you know as soon as I figure out what it is."

"Look, Anna... This doesn't have to be weird," he said. He retrieved a tea kettle, and poured them each a glass. "Go on. Sit down. I'm fine. I mean, I was upset when you and Elsa left... but I got over it and moved on with my life. And I'm much happier now than I was before."

"How so?" Elsa asked.

"My world used to be neat and orderly. Everything made sense and I could have told you exactly what I'd be doing tomorrow, the next week, or ten years from now. Then I met you... I also got kidnapped by pirates and dragged to a place that I'm fairly sure was actually Jotunnheim, but mostly I met you. And when things didn't turn out the way I expected, I had to learn to pick myself up, dust myself off, and get on with it."

"Well... I'm happy for you," Anna said. "I read your books."

"Really? What did you think?"

"They were kinda weird."

Tycho shrugged. "It pays the bills. Also, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I made you responsible for my happiness. That's not how things are supposed to work."

Anna shrugged, looked at the floor, brushed her hair back over her ear. "Tycho... We can't control who we fall for. Trust us... we understand that better than anyone you'll ever meet."

Elsa just sipped her tea.

Anna nudged her elbow.

"Alright, alright..." Elsa said. "Look, I'm sorry I was so hard on you. I've spent the last year telling people you're a jerk. And I was jealous. I didn't want to share Anna with anyone else." Another sip. "Also, I read your books," she lied.

"Great!" Iris announced, sarcastically. "We're all happy now, so let's get to it."

Anna was still amazed by her sister's evil twin. They were identical in so many ways... But Iris' short black hair was hardly the biggest difference between them. She stood with a calm and regal bearing, and wore a frost-gossamer dress much like Elsa did on occasion. But she laughed less. And she did not have an Anna. That fact alone could make them as different as night and day.

"Okay... Iris," Elsa said. "Do you still want us to call you that?"

"If you don't, things will get very confusing very fast. Anyway, that's what Tycho calls me. Except when we fight."

Anna thought that was a peculiar thing for her to say.

"What did you find out?" Iris asked.

"Well," Elsa explained. "We asked if she could arrange us an audience with the King of Denmark. Lord Beirasham said that's where father ended up after the British captured him. We're not exactly royalty anymore. Tycho's letter told us that Prussia is kind of the big kid on the block, army-wise, so we figured Rapunzel might be able to, I don't know, leverage things a little. But it's worse than we thought. Denmark isn't going to do her any favors."

"Uh uh. This story isn't filling me with confidence."

"It gets better. Anna, show her."

Anna placed the box on the table.

"Magic compass," she explained. "Points at whatever you want most in life."

"Seriously?"

"We hope so. Otherwise we took a really long trip for nothing."

Iris picked it up and opened the lid. She frowned when the needle couldn't seem to make up its mind where to point. She passed it to Tycho, who studied it for just an instant before dropping it on the table.

"Don't break it!" Anna hissed. "Here's the deal. Whenever me or Elsa holds it, it points west. So we need to figure out what to make of that. And I'm kind of stumped because there's no marks on it or anything. Are we just supposed to walk in a straight line?"

"Maybe not," Tycho said. He retrieved his rucksack and began to empty the contents. Setting aside his British Baker rifle, he produced a bedroll, a pair of older-model doglock pistols, and finally a haversack. After digging through a bit of kit, he set his own compass on the table and unrolled a map. "Here's my idea," he explained. "I use my compass to orient the map to north. Now we use your compass to shoot an azimuth. And... let's see... We draw a line parallel to that, starting in Plön..."

The line was not truly west. Rather, it angled slightly north, passing over Germany, across the North Sea, and continuing on towards Edinburgh.

"So we're going to Scotland?" Anna asked.

"I don't think so. Look here," he pointed to an island in the North Sea. It was just west of Denmark and south of Norway. The Southern Isles. The name of the town was Loptrsborg.

"You've got to be kidding me," Anna said. "Please tell me there's another Southern Isles we don't know about. Like, I don't know, Antarctica or somewhere?"

Tycho bit his lip.

"Go ahead," Iris said. "Do your thing."

"Alright," he explained. "After the unpleasantness in Arendelle, Prince Hans went back to his island. From what I can figure out, he spent a year or so in seclusion. Maybe house arrest. I don't know. People say he participated in the Battle of Stralsund in 1809. He went with the Danish contingent to assist the French. I don't know what role he actually played in it. Regardless, he's back in the Southern Isles now. Doing whatever it is spoiled rich people do."

"Seriously?" Anna asked. "I hoped he would at least go to jail... For, you know, the whole fake-marriage-and-regicide thing."

Iris laughed. "No royal family is going to punish one of their own for the crime of ambition."

Anna frowned. She was glad her Elsa never got to be so cynical. "So what's this Lobtersburg place?"

"Loptrsborg is a whaling center," Tycho explained. "It's also a notorious prison. They use convicts to butcher whales for meat and process their oil. I hate to admit it, but it's starting to make a certain amount of sense."

For a long moment no one didn't said anything. They just stared at the map and thought.

"Alright," Elsa finally said. "We give it a shot. And if it doesn't work out, we head to Edinburgh. And wherever comes after that. How soon can we sail?"

"I don't know," Tycho said. "It's already dark, but I bet the docks are still busy. They work around the clock. I could find out." He rose, pulled on a coat, and a stocking cap. "This shouldn't take long. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"That's a good idea," Iris said. She rose and followed him to the door. "We need to talk about things anyway."

He hesitated, just for a second, and then gave her a kiss. He closed the door behind him, and was gone.

Anna and Elsa stared at her with their mouths agape.

"You..." Elsa started.

"...and him..." Anna continued.

"I know..." Iris said with a sigh.

"Jeebus frick!" Anna shouted, jumping up from the couch. "How are you together? You're a..."

"I know!" she insisted.

"Does he?" Elsa asked.

"No. I don't know. I don't think so."

"Okay. Look... I know I said you should give men a try... but I didn't mean _him_!"

"Hold on!" Iris said, pointing an angry finger at Elsa. "You don't get to judge me. Not on this."

"But why?" Elsa insisted.

"Because Tycho is dependable. And predictable. He may not think so, but it's true." She took a breath, and ran her fingers through her jet-black hair. "Look... I'm not good at being alone. I... we... spent our whole lives alone. And I can't deal with it any more. I needed someone, I was willing to go out on a limb, and I thought there was one person in the whole world that I could count on to be there for me... to, you know, _want_ me."

Anna shook her head and bit her lip. "I still don't get it."

"I still love women," Iris explained. "Tycho's okay, but I only love women and I think I always will. But I took a chance with him... and now it's complicated."

"Oh no," Elsa gasped, clapping her hands over her mouth.

"What?" Anna asked. "What? I don't- Oh. Oh God, no. Seriously?"

Iris looked at the floor. "He doesn't know yet."

"How long?"

"Two months. I haven't started to show yet, but I'm sure. I've been sick, a little bit. I get tired sometimes. My corsets don't fit right any more."

"What are you going to do?" Elsa asked.

"I don't know!" Iris snapped. "I tried leaving him for a few weeks. Then I got scared and came back when I didn't think I could do this on my own. When I left Lord Beirasham I took some of his money, but that won't last. I don't want to be with a man forever, but I don't know how else I'm going to do this."

"Oh, Iris..." Elsa took her in her arms and patted her back. "It'll be okay. We'll help you. We'll figure something out. And Tycho... he's not a _bad _guy. He's wound kind of tight, but he _is_ dependable."

"You haven't seen him in years."

"I'm trying to help. Cut me some slack."

Iris pulled away, and opened a book of maps. "There's nothing to be done for it now," she said. "We'll figure it out later. We've got a lot of work to do. And... I'd just rather not deal with it right now."

"That's always healthy," Anna snarked.

"You're not helping," Elsa snapped.

* * *

"This is weird," Anna said.

They lay in bed together in a strange German house, staring at a boar's head on the wall. It wasn't really creepy. Just... absurd. It was never easy to sleep in an unfamiliar house. Especially some random place in Germany Tycho rented by the day. Anna, not for the first time, pondered why they hadn't just stayed overnight in the Plöner Schloss. But that was not was bothered her the most.

"What are you thinking?" Elsa asked.

"You want a shallow thought or a deep one?"

"Shallow, please."

"You always pick shallow first."

Elsa smiled. "Because if I ask what the deep thought is, we'll end up talking about that and I'll never get to hear the shallow one."

"Okay. Makes sense to me. Do you think chocolate was invented as a tool to enslave humanity? Because I find it very plausible."

Her sister giggled.

"I love making you laugh," Anna said. "I feel like ever since we left Arendelle you've been so sad."

"Don't worry about me, Anna. I'm happy just to be with you. It's not your job to make me happy all the time. I don't think anyone is happy all the time, anyway."

"I know_ that_," Anna said. "I just mean, you used to be fun. Remember Coronation Day? It had been years since I'd seen you for more than five seconds, and the very first thing you did was volunteer me to dance with the Duke of Weaseltown. And you thought it was so funny."

"Anna-"

"No," she continued. "I didn't mean that a bad way. It was embarrassing, but it made me so happy. Because we barely knew each other but you still knew you could mess with me and have fun, and trust that I'd be there for you. You believed in me."

"And a minute later I tried to talk you out of marrying a psychopath."

Anna laughed out loud. "Why do you think I wanted to marry Hans? I mean, who does that? 'Hey, Elsa, I just met this guy like two seconds ago and now we're getting married so what do you think of that?' Look, I know I was kind of desperate for attention, but do you think I would have told you about it if I didn't trust you? No. We'd run off and get married somewhere and you'd probably find out about it after I was dead or something."

"I don't know where this is going," Elsa confessed.

"Here's the point," Anna said. "The point is I trusted you and I knew you'd be there for me. I wouldn't have come to you if I thought you'd laugh at me, or put your foot down, or send me to my room. You wouldn't do any of those things. Not to me."

Elsa's eyes started to tear up. She quickly wiped them.

"I love you," Anna said. She took Elsa's cheeks in her hands and kissed her. Once. Twice. Then their tongues touched. They kissed deeply, passionately. Anna paused for a second, just to watch frozen vapor escape her lips.

"Was that your deep thought?" Elsa asked.

"No. That was a shallow thought that turned into a deep thought but not the deep thought I started out with."

"Okay," Elsa said, wiping her eyes one more time. "What's the deep thought?"

Anna frowned, and took a deep breath.

"Are you happy because you think things will go back to the way they were?"

"I don't understand."

"Yes you do," Anna insisted. "Do you think we'll find Father, bring him home, and he'll be King of Arendelle, and we can be princesses again?"

Elsa's hand left Anna's.

"Sometimes," Elsa said. "Sometimes I think we made a mistake. Sometimes I want to go home. It was... safer. Easier. People took care of us."

"It was a prison," Anna said.

"But things will be different now!"

"Exactly!" Anna replied. "Things _will_ be different. We'll have a Father who wants to hide us all day. And he'll want to know why we're not married. To _men_, I mean. And then he'll make decisions about what he wants us to do with our lives. Even if there aren't any walls it will still be a prison!"

"No!" Elsa took her hands and looked into her beautiful eyes. "No. We won't let that happen. You're mine and I'm yours. We'll be together forever. Even if we have to go back to England and live on our own. We're never going back. The past is in the past."

"I love you so much," Anna said, sliding down her sister's body. She kissed Elsa's navel, and then ran her tongue down the to the special spot between her legs that only Anna would ever explore. Her lips hovered just above her sister's crevice... so very, painfully close.

"I love you, too," Elsa whispered. Her fingers curled tight around the bedsheets in frustrated anticipation. "And I need you so much right now."

Anna hungrily took her sister, and Elsa cried out in the night.

* * *

Lone Exner stood on his habitual perch high above the Loptrsborg docks. It was the last week of February and North Sea wind was bitterly cold. It was a far cry from his native Africa. There were very few black men in the Southern Isles, and he cut a striking figure in his old-fashioned tricorne hat and black wool cape. His hand rested on the butt of a revolving flintlock pistol, courtesy Mister Elisha Collier of Boston. Exner represented imperialism in reverse: Born a slave, in this tiny slice of Europe he was the law. It was a position he had earned through a great deal of effort and no small amount of luck. Whatever Gods may be, as it turned out, had given Exner two tremendous gifts: A very keen mind and unblemished integrity. The Danes have long held that to be an honest man is to be one in ten thousand. Lone Exner was such a man.

Vast mechanical factories were beginning to spring up all over Europe, and Loptrsborg was a factory of death. Whaling ships dragged leviathans of all sorts into port, where their tails were linked to great winches and pulled into massive cradles. The workers, most of whom were the scum of Britain, Denmark, and France, labored every day to carve up the carcasses. They began by sweeping a fifteen-foot blade across the animal like a pendulum. Cranes carried enormous hearts weighing over 1,300 pounds. Bilge pumps drained the thick white oil and carts hauled aromatic ambergris down long rails. And the water was red. Not dark crimson like human blood, but the dull color of red bricks.

A new ship pulled into port, and Exner watched the disembarking passengers like a hawk. He never forgot a face. It was always the passenger ships he found most interesting. Workmen and whalers could be found for a shilling. It was the visitors he was interested in, because no one in their right mind would ever visit a place like Loptrsborg by choice. Looking down, he saw three women on this particular voyage. One's hair was fair, the other almost red, and the third pure black. They intrigued him, but then the saw something far more interesting. A man with a long bag and rucksack, wearing green pants and a dark tailcoat.

Exner never forgot a face.

He practically ran down the steps. There was no reason to push his way through the crowd. No one ever stood in the way of Lone Exner. Leaping up on a crate, he called out, "Tycho! Tycho Halvdan!" For a moment Tycho looked confused. Then he smiled, and pushed his way to the side of the street to meet an old friend.

"Lone Exner," Tycho said, shaking his hand. "I thought people stopped wearing those hats twenty years ago. How have you been?"

"Very well," Exner replied. He touched Tycho's elbow and led him away from the mob. They spoke as they walked. "When did I last see you? It was Copenhagen... 1807? Back when the British shot up the place."

"How could I forget? It still gives me nightmares. What are you doing here?"

Exner chuckled, and grinned. "I run this place."

"You what?"

"Technically, Prince Hans runs the place. But he never comes out. I'm the Constable here."

Tycho looked more than a little surprised. "Really? What do the people think of that?"

"They don't. Or if they do, they keep it to themselves. You'd be surprised how many Africans end up in the whaling industry. It's like the army, I suppose. Shoot four balls a minute and then see who cares what color you are. What's in the sack?"

"My gun."

Exner laughed. "I should let you know how touched I am that you know better than to lie to me. I'm flattered."

"Lie to you?" he said. "That'd be the worst mistake anyone ever made."

They walked over one of the many bridges that crossed blood-soaked canals. Like many of the countries ringing the North Sea, the Southern Isles played hopscotch with the concept of sea level. Floods were routine, houses were built atop high foundations, and in some places the streets themselves had more in common with a sewer. It was a vile, vile place.

"You didn't come here for the hunting, did you?" Exner continued. "Because I'll tell you right now, there isn't any."

"Well," Tycho said, "I suppose I'm about to find out. I haven't done much shooting since I left the army. Mostly been writing books."

"Oh really? I remember seeing the name, I wondered if it was the same Tycho."

"It is. But tell me, what have you been up to? You were a rising star in Denmark, weren't you?"

Exner chuckled. "I've done alright for myself. I left Denmark for a time. Joined the French as a staff officer under Marshal Ney. Fought at Almeida and Bucaco. Then Napoleon headed for Russia and I gave up on that."

"Thank God," Tycho said.

"Thank God," Exner agreed. "I also got tired of everyone calling me _petit _Dumas. I swear I never met the man. He was dead before I set a foot in France. Regardless, I went to work for the Danish government for a while. Then when Napoleon escaped Elba, His Majesty sent me to observe and report on him. I arrived in France just in time for Waterloo. That was a hash."

"What did you do?"

"Spent the entire day watching Ney ride up and down a hill to no good effect. It was awful. Napoleon was gone half the time, but Ney just rode around instead of taking charge of the battle like he should have. A bad move."

"That's amazing," Tycho said. "I... well, I missed all that. I heard Wellington said the battle was the closest-run thing he'd seen in his life. Was that true?"

"No," Exner said with a laugh. "Wellington's a braggart. Sure, if you were at Mount-Saint-Jean it probably looked that way. But then fifty thousand Prussians showed up. Bonaparte could have wiped the floor with Wellington and still lost in the afternoon. You never fought a real battle, did you?"

Tycho looked away for a moment. "No," he confessed. "Arendelle stayed out of it. But I'm fine with that... I've had my share of trouble. I've actually got a ball in my leg."

"You ran into trouble? What's that supposed to mean? When?"

"1808."

Exner smirked. "Was a woman involved?"

"...yes."

"Well, I never would have expected that. You were on your first campaign when I met you. And I thought, there's a young man with a stick up his ass. Trying so hard to fit in. You were a good kid, though. You took care of people. Never thought you'd be the kind of guy to get into a duel."

Tycho just shrugged. "It sounds like you wound up on the losing side most of the time. Do you regret it?"

Exner looked at the floor and thought. He tapped his chin pensively. "I... well.. No. No, I don't."

"I'm not sure I believe that."

"If I wanted to lie to you," Exner said. "You'd never know it. Where will you be staying?"

"Well, I was hoping for an inn but, I've got a better idea. How about you tell me where I should be staying?"

A great cloud of smoke passed overhead, and the world was cast in a strange, brownish sort of light. They were standing beneath the fumes of a blubber-rending factory. The stench was obscene. Exner touched Tycho's elbow and quickened his step, leading them away from the noxious cloud.

"A foolish person would try the inns by the wharf. An even more foolish person would use the ones by the refinery. If you have the money, look for the Captain's Mansions on the north side of town. It's just a name. Most of them are shacks. But in this place, owning your own ship is enough to get you four walls all to yourself. They're expensive, but there's always an empty one to be found."

"North side. Got it. Any other nuggets of wisdom for me?"

"Yes, in fact. Stay away from the Mansion Salander."

"Is that on the north side?" Tycho asked. "No. That's where the local nobility live. Prince Hans, Earl of Oil and Ambergris. The place is a palace and a prison at the same time."

Tycho stopped in the street. "A what, now?"

Exner removed his tricorne hat and scratched his brow. "I'll level with you. I owe you that much. Every now and then we get some diplomat or something that wants to meet the Prince. Why? I have no idea. Everyone in their right mind knows the man's a sadist, even if they won't say it out loud. The place is reserved for Europe's embarrassments. Bastard children, governments in exile, mistresses who know too much... Just stay far away and you'll have no trouble. In the meantime, I have work to be about. I hope to-"

"Hang on!" Tycho interrupted. "Look, I've heard of the Hans guy. He did some horrible things to people I know. So why are you working for him? You used to be a decent guy."

"Working _for _him?" Exner gave the man a look as though he'd just spat on a Pope. "Look at all these people. Drunks. Ex-slaves. Even the rats are just trying to get through the day with as little misery and hassle as possible. I do this to keep them safe _from_ him. Do you see any stocks? Any one-handed thieves? If it weren't for me, this place would be twice as bad."

Tycho sighed. "Alright. I'm sorry. You do what you do. I trust you."

"Thank you. And by the way, you never answered my question."

"Which one?"

"About why you're here, and why you brought a gun."

"Exner," Tycho said, holding out his hands. "I brought guns, plural. Look, I lied to you before. The books aren't paying the bills. I've got to get back to doing what I do best. And that means finding some skipper out here who needs a marine."

Exner put his hands on Tycho's shoulders. "I know you. You do what's right. None of these guys will treat you the way to deserve. I'd rather have you working for me than one of them."

Tycho thought about it. "I've got a little business, first. I've got some people I promised to meet. I'll tell you what. You give me a week, and if I don't find a skipper that suits me I'll come knock on your door. Where can I find you?"

"Don't worry about it," Exner said, patting him on the arm. "I'll find you."

* * *

"We have a problem," Tycho said. "His name is Lone Exner."

Their temporary home was a two-bedroom cottage in the shadow of an immensely tall church. The stone was dark granite, and like everything else on the island it appeared be somewhat lacking in right angles. The church was tall, but not big... As though the builder was told to make it as tall as possible while staying under budget. Far, far under budget

The rented house itself was as Spartan as could be expected. At least the place in Germany had a handful of decorations. Coming here, Tycho could see why the Captain's Mansions were considered the uptown of Loptrsborg. They were far enough inland to avoid the worst of the storm tides, and they could step outside the door without crossing a canal full of whale blood. The only furniture in the dining-slash-living-slash-whatever room was a wooden table. Anna, Elsa, and Iris all sat around a map.

"Go on," Elsa said.

"I knew him from the war. He's a lawman now. In charge of... whatever this place is. The man's mind is a steel trap. Nothing gets out, and I mean nothing. I had to burn both of my cover stories in my first ten minutes on the island."

"Both?"

"The disposable one, and the backup one. I think you should all find a new place to stay."

"That doesn't sound like a good idea," Iris said.

"Exner was the one that told me to look for a place in this part of town. That means he'll expect to find me here. It will look weird if I ignore him. But he doesn't know we're together. At least, I hope not. And we need to split up to keep that from happening."

"Will he follow you?" Elsa asked.

"I don't know," Tycho said. "And if someone was tailing me, I'm not sure I'd notice. This place is so crowded."

"Alright, so how do we recognize him?"

"He's African, for starters. Wears an old fashioned three-pointed hat. Double breasted coat with lots of buttons. Trust me, you'll know him when we see him. And there's another thing. When I talked to him, he confirmed that Hans is on the island. He lives in the Mansion."

"Great," Anna said, despondently. "Just what we were hoping for."

"Can we do this without running into him?" Tycho asked.

"I don't think so. Look at this." She unrolled a map of Loptrsborg. It was covered with pencil marks that all converged on a single point. "I walked around town and used the magic compass like you showed me. No matter where I went, it always pointed towards the Mansion. See? All the azimuths point to the same place."

"Well, that narrows it down," Elsa said. "I think we all knew it would come to this."

"Okay," Iris sighed. "So what now?"

"We need to scout the place out. We can't make a plan until we see it for ourselves. I can go do that."

"I'll go with you," Elsa said.

"Wait, what?" Anna asked.

"I need you to go find us a new house."

"With _her_?" She pointed to Iris.

"Well, that's rude," Iris said.

"Look," Elsa explained. "I'm going. I need you to find a house because Tycho's already been spotted. And I'm not sending Iris anywhere. She needs to be here to protect you." Anna looked like she was about to argue, but Elsa shot her a look. It was only then that it clicked in Anna's head what Elsa was really trying to say. They had to think about the baby.

"Okay, we've got it, no problem," Anna agreed. "But if you do run into Hans, what do you plan to do about him?"

Everyone looked at Tycho.

"What?"

There was a long an uncomfortable silence. Each of the women glanced at each other, as though they hoped they could come to some sort of consensus without having to actually say it out loud. Iris sat back with her arms crossed. Elsa stared at Anna. And Anna... Anna was just angry.

"Christ," Tycho said, resting his forehead on his palm. "You want me to kill him."

"No," Elsa said. "No, we're not going to do that."

"Okay," Anna interrupted. "I'll say it. Why not?"

"You seriously want me to shoot a Prince? Setting aside the ethics of it, if Hans gets shot we'll never make it off this island."

"You didn't have these problems when it came to shooting pirates."

Tycho slapped his hands on the tabletop. "Not the same thing, Anna. Not the same."

"I agree," Elsa said. "If Hans was trying to kill us, it'd be one thing."

"How do you know he won't?" Anna said, standing up and leaning over the table.

"Because as far as we know, he doesn't even know we're here."

"Iris, back me up here. You're the evil twin."

"Wow, that's not cool," Iris complained. "But I'm with her. We can't take any risks. If we have the chance to remove Hans and this Exner guy, we need to do it. I don't want to wait."

"NO!" Elsa shouted. "Anna, are you serious? How can you think this is okay? We're talking about killing a man."

"No, Elsa, we're talking about stopping someone who wants to hurt us. You know it and I know it. And it's not what he did to me... It's what he tried to do to _you_! The man wanted to kill you with a sword. Have you forgotten that part? What makes you think anything is going to be different? This isn't about _revenge_, it's about keeping us all alive!"

Elsa clapped her hand over her mouth. Tears were in her eyes. "Anna... I feel like I don't even know you right now."

"Yes, you do! I love you and I'm not going to let anything happen to you! I'm going to take care of you even if you don't want to take care of yourself because that's what _I do_, Elsa." She sniffled, and wiped at the corner of her eyes.

"It's okay," Iris said. "We don't have to make a decision right now."

"Yes, we do," Tycho said. Iris shot him a hateful look, but he ignored her. "We need a plan. We can't wait until we're in a fight and then try to figure things out. We need to make a plan ahead of time, and stick to it."

"Alright," Elsa said, standing up and seizing control. "No one is killing anyone unless we have to. We don't have a plan yet, we don't have an easy way off the island, and I'd rather pack up and go home than let any of you get hurt. We're going to Mansion, you're going to find us a safe house, and nobody shoots anybody unless there's absolutely no choice. Got it?"

Iris threw up her hands and walked away from the table.

"I'm with you," Tycho said.

Anna stared at them both, but said nothing.

* * *

Tycho sat on his bed, and unloaded his kit. His green jaeger's jacket was old. The buttons were tarnished. It still fit. He took out a spyglass, examined it, and returned it to its leather pouch. At one point he had owned a sword, but he had not kept it. He would not bring his pistols today. He doubted very much that he would need them. They were not accurate at anything past a stone's throw, and if he had to use them then things had gone very much awry. Instead, he fit a freshly knapped flint into his Baker rifle and loaded a handful of cartridges into a tiny box on his belt.

The door opened behind him.

"You shouldn't treat Elsa like that," he said. "I thought you two would empathize a little better."

"It's me," Anna said.

Tycho startled and dropped his cartridges. He immediately stood up, a little stunned but mostly confused. Anna's eyes were more than a little bit red. Her bottom lip was almost imperceptibly trembling. She took a step towards him.

"Anna, I-"

"How many people have you killed?" she asked.

"Five," he said.

"Were they all pirates?"

"No."

Anna bit her lip and looked away. "Were they soldiers?"

"No."

"Did you kill Yngval?"

Tycho didn't answer.

Anna took a deep breath and stood in front of the window. She looked out on a miserable cobblestone street stained with sticky brown footprints. The world was distorted by thick leaded windows. Nobody in their right mind opened their windows in Loptrsborg. Also, incense was very popular. She touched a small screw someone had discarded on the windowsill, and played with it between her fingers for a moment.

"What do you want from me, Anna?"

She looked him straight in the eye. "I want you to keep my sister safe. I want you to bring my father home. And... I think Elsa needs your help but she's too proud to admit it."

"I don't think that's true," he said. "She's smarter than that."

"Smart people make bad choices," she replied, touching the lapel of his shirt. "Just look at you. When are you going to stop following us around and get on with your own life?"

"I'll leave whenever you tell me."

"I doubt that."

"Are you going to ask me to kill Hans for you?"

"No," she said, but her voice cracked. A tear rolled down her cheek. "I don't want you to kill Hans. I don't want anybody to die. He hurt me. He hurt me very badly. But I don't want him to die. I just want Elsa to be safe. I love her so much and she's everything to me."

Tycho took her small, tender hand. He stared at her wedding band.

"I need you to be there for her... if I can't. I need you to do what you do best. Just make sure she comes home to me."

A tear escaped her eye. He wiped it away with his thumb. She caught his hand, and held it against her cheek. They stared into each others' eyes for a long time. There was a electricity here that he had never felt with Iris. The kind of spark that came from two people who had forgotten how much they needed each other. She tilted her head up, and leaned into him. Their lips were so close... so very, dangerously close.

"Tycho," Anna whispered, and placed her hand on his chest. "I love you... but I love my sister more. And if you love me like I think you do... and if you want me to be happy... then you'll bring her back to me."

He stepped away from her.

"Anna," Tycho said. "Why are you doing this? Why would you say that?"

"I have to tell you. I want you to understand. I do love you. But you can fight for us, or kill for us, or march to Jotunnheim and back... It doesn't matter what you do; We'll never be together. Never, ever. And I wanted you to hear that from me before you do something you can't take back."

"I don't understand."

"You will," she said, wiping away her tears. "One day."

* * *

Lone Exner stood at the gate of the Mansion Salander. The place made his skin crawl. At first glance it looked like all the other imitation – Greek houses rich people threw up left and right. He was given to understand that Palladian architecture was supposed to celebrate symmetry and beauty in proportions. If that was the goal, then this mansion was an architect's abortion. The lines and edges and even the Ionic columns were weirdly warped, like a wax sculpture left out in the sun.

The soldiers wore white coats over dark blue pants. Their heads were topped with great bear-skin shakos. Old French Charleville muskets rested on their shoulders, eaten up with rust. The most disturbing thing was the strange brick-red stains. Only an idiot would tell someone to wear white in Loptrsborg.

"Gentlemen," he said with a tip of the hat. They replied with grumbles and snorts. There was an old saying that a hungry man could steal, soldier, or starve. He suspected they might be all three.

Exner raised his fist to knock on the great oak door. It opened before he even struck. The Seneschal was a hunched old man with a weird, caved-in deformity on the side of his face. It was as if his skull was inexplicably lacking some rather important bones. He spoke with a strange bubbling noise in his throat.

"You are here for the master?" he (it?) asked.

"I am," Exner said.

The Seneschal nodded. The skin on his face jerked up and down independent of any major bones. "Come along, Exner Thief's-Bane. And mind you stay to the path."

The Path was a literal red carpet proceeding down an uncomfortably tight hallway. The rooms to the left and the right were almost empty. Old furniture covered in sheets and boxes full of God-knows-what stacked about in disarray. He glanced in one door, and a hall that connected to the exterior stables. There was a great deal of hay, but he saw no horses. The place was antiseptically clean. He smelled... nothing. Nothing at all. There was no dust here, no smell at all, even when he passed a door that was purported to be a lavatory.

The Seneschal stopped in front of an iron door. The gentlest push opened it noiselessly. This was the part he always hated most. The office, in contrast to the rest of the Mansion, was lavishly decorated. Bear-skin hung from the walls. An antique matchlock rifle graced the mantle of the fireplace. The master's chair was covered in plush red velvet. On the left side of the desk, a globe. On the right, the sabre - toothed skull of some ancient, Hyperborean cat.

This was Prince Hans, who they called Earl of Oil and Ambergris. He was taller than he had been in his youth, and wore a well-trimmed chestnut beard. A Polish Hussar's sabre had put a permanent end to his good looks. The Prince wore an eye patch to cover the empty socket, and the scar extended from his orbit back across his scalp. It attracted the attention away from his slightly off-kilter nose. Rumor had it, at some point in the past a Princess rejected him and it had never set properly.

"Exner, my friend," the Prince said. "Come see my new painting. It's _Tondal's Vision_ by Hieronymous Bosch. The original. What do you think of it?" The painting, like most of Bosch's work, was a surreal vision of pain and horror, depicting a scene from a famous medieval story involving a knight's visit to Hell.

"I find it depraved beyond all mortal reason," Exner replied.

"That's what I like about you." Hans popped the cork on a bottle of Sauternes wine and poured two glasses. "You're never afraid to tell me what you think. Most people tell me what they think I want to hear."

"Anyone who compliments this piece is an idiot. For a lie to succeed it has to be plausible. Or, failing that, so outrageous that no one could believe someone would be brazen enough to attempt it." Exner took a glass and sipped, but did not swallow. If Hans noticed, he gave no sign. It was only then that Exner noticed the servant had vanished. This place was almost as surreal as the painting.

"Anyway," the Hans said, taking a seat at his desk. "What fresh madness is the world going to inflict on me today?"

"There is precious little that should concern Your Highness. This week we fined twelve men for brawling, fourteen for drunkenness, and flogged three thieves. There was a murder on board the _Canute, _butthe ship's skipper kept custody of the suspect and promised to extradite him to Britain."

"That's it?" Hans asked. "In Loptrsborg? When I was a boy we'd call that a Thursday morning. In my bedroom."

"I've made it clear to the skippers that it's their job to keep the men in line."

"Huh. So your great scheme is to bore me to the point where I won't call on you any more? I don't think that will work. I kind of like our little chats. Anything else I should know about?"

Exner took a deep breath. "There is one thing. An old friend of mine came into town. From the war. One Tycho Halvdan. He was a junior officer some time back. I hear he writes books. I mention it because he's not the sort of person to come begging for work in a place like this. It struck me as odd."

"Halvdan? That means Half-Dane, right? Is he from Denmark?"

"No, sir. Arendelle. It's a province of Norway, now."

Hans set down his wineglass. Whatever twisted amusement Hans took from prodding Exner suddenly evaporated. "I'm very familiar with Arendelle," he explained. "What did this Half-Dane do?"

"I met him in Copenhagen. He stayed for a year. I recall he left when he received an invitation to the King's Own Lifejaegercorps. Or the Queen's, rather, by the time he arrived."

"That's fascinating. He must not have been good at his job. The Queen vanished in 1808. The Princess, too."

Hans rose from his seat, lit a pipe, and stared out the window. The Mansion Salander, despite being positioned on the side of a hill, did not overlook Loptrsborg. It just stared into another hillside, and not a particularly attractive one at that. Hans did not appear to be looking at anything in particular. He just smoked his pipe, occasionally exhaling a cloud of noxious blue fumes. Exner stared at him in surprise. Hans was eternally amused by the trials and foibles of mankind. But at this moment he was different... Anxious? Nervous, even? Exner had never seen him like this.

"I'm going to ask you some questions," Hans finally said. "And it is very important that you be honest with me. First question: How is the weather?"

"What?" Exnser asked.

"How is the weather?"

Was this some kind of joke?

"It is cold, Your Highness."

"Colder than normal?"

"I don't believe so."

"Alright," he said, still staring out the window. Second question: Have you seen any strange women in Loptrsborg? This isn't exactly a place for ladies of any status. But there are two I'm interested in. One has blonde hair so pale as to be almost white. The other'sis almost red. They would both be thirty by now. And undoubtedly traveling together. Inseparable, even."

"I did see two such women. A third was with them. She had-"

"Irrelevant," Hans interrupted. In a gesture that was the very definition of uncouth, he emptied his ashes into his wineglass. "Exner, you know this place is a prison, right?"

"So I've heard. But I've never seen-"

"The vault is on the second floor. I'm going to level with you... There are people in this world who would kill whole nations just for a glimpse of what's on the other side of that door. There is one person here whose history is very closely tied to Arendelle. If these women are who I think they are, they will be very interested in this person. They must not, under any circumstances, make it through the front door of Mansion Salander. I want them captured immediately... if you can. If anything goes wrong, shoot the blonde one. The sister is harmless... but the blonde one is the most dangerous woman in the world. If she gives you so much as a funny look, shoot her dead."

"This woman..." Exner asked. "Is this the Snow Queen of Arendelle? I thought she was a myth."

"No. She is real. She is dangerous. Kill her."

Exner clenched his jaw. His hands curled into fists.

"Don't give me that look, Exner," Hans said. "There are times in my life that I've been an evil man. I've done evil things. But even I have people I answer to, and the things I do now I do for the sake of the world. I need you to trust me on this. Take as many men as you need, do as I ask, and for God's sake keep it quiet. One day you'll understand."

"Yes," Exner said. "Yes, Your Highness."

He wanted to vomit.

But he did not.

* * *

Tycho and Elsa walk along narrow mountain trail, high above the city. Looking down, the place was a chaotic twisting labyrinth of noxious, belching smokestacks and pure human misery. They did not take their time to study it. Rather, Elsa stared at her compass the entire way as if hoping that it would suddenly tell them they were wrong all along. It did not.

Tycho wore his green army jacket, knee-high black gaiters, and a knit stocking cap. He carried his rifle in his hands, refusing to sling it. Elsa carried nothing at all. She just wore a magical blue dress of gossamer frost. It was the green-blue color of sea ice. She practically glared at his rifle.

"Did you really need to that?" she asked.

"Absolutely," Tycho replied. "I'd feel naked without it."

"Uh huh. God save us from men and their toys."

"If I didn't need it, I wouldn't have brought it. Besides, we should be quiet."

"Already? How far is it?"

"We have to get off the road and climb to the top of the hill."

Elsa looked down at her feet. She wore transparent slippers made of startlingly clear ice. The heels were not very high, but they certainly were not something she would want to wear on the trail at night. With a moment's thought, they transformed into something resembling moccasins.

"Wish I could do that," Tycho grumbled as he started the hike. "Save on trips to the cobbler."

"I doubt that," she said. "You talk like you're Robinson Crusoe or James Cook, but we know you've spent the last five years writing novels."

"A man can dream," he replied. "I just like to get paid for it."

"See that? That right there? That's why we can't get along. Anna would have said something like, 'Gosh Elsa, you're right, I do try to compensate for my failures with caustic wit.'"

Tycho stopped for a moment and scratched his head. "That doesn't sound like her. Oh well."

Elsa turned around and walked backwards for a few steps as she talked. "And there it is again. When you ignore my point and dismiss me like that... that's the opposite of helping."

They continued to pick their way through trees and rocks. Tycho led her diagonally up the slope in a zig-zag pattern. It was certainly easier than trying to march straight to the top. A thick carpet of pine needles made the hillside slippery. Every few meters one of them would step on a loose pile and slip until their foot found a rock. It was painful, and difficult. Tycho started to sweat. Elsa did not. Hard work never made her too hot. Ever. At about the halfway point, Tycho stopped and rested against a tree.

"You haven't spent much time around men, have you?" he asked. "I mean, do women have conversations where they actually acknowledge each others feelings and make decisions together? Because I'd kind of like to know what that's like."

"It's no wonder you're not married," she said. "No woman would put up with you."

"No gay woman would put up with me. I'm pretty sure women who actually like men have different expectations. Also, that has nothing to do with why I didn't marry. I didn't marry because I refuse to settle."

Elsa stopped and sighed.

"Tycho, you're in love with all three of us. One of us dislikes you, one ignores you, one tolerates you, and all three of us are lesbians. There is no part of this that sounds healthy."

Tycho stared at her for a moment. "You really don't have a clue, do you?"

"Knew it," Elsa snapped. "You don't care what any of us think about anything. You don't care if you hurt us, or-"

"Stop," he said.

"What?"

"Stop. You're not Queen anymore. You're not my boss. And the truth is that I stopped caring what you think of me a long time ago."

"You're an ass," Elsa hissed, and noticeably picked up her pace.

"No, this... what you're seeing right here... This is me fixing my priorities. When you first met me I was like a guitar string. Wound so tight, one little tap and I'm just shaking to pieces. That's not me anymore. I figured out how to let things go and get on with my life. You're the one that's stuck in the past."

"I am not!" she said.

Tycho shrugged as he caught up to her. "Do you realize what a jealous person you are? Do you think one of us is going to steal Anna from you? Is this some kind of side effect of spending your childhood in prison?"

Elsa slapped him.

Then she slapped him again, just for good measure.

"You are such a jerk. Sit down. We need to talk."

"No," he said, rubbing his cheek. "We don't have time to waste with this-"

"God dammit, Tycho! Just once, just this once, shut up and listen to me!"

Tycho stood there for a moment. He unslung his rifle. There was a particularly inviting rock just off the trail. He looked at it. Back to Elsa. Then he finally decided hypothermia was a lousy way to die, and he sat.

"What is wrong with you men?" Elsa whispered to herself as she ran her fingers through her hair. "Okay, look, I know we don't get along, but I need to know what's going on between you and Iris. Does she actually want to be with you?"

He took out his canteen, took his time unscrewing the cap and taking a sip.

"I'm worried about you," she said. "And I mean that. I've never liked you, but you've never been passive-aggressive like this. What is going on here?"

"Fine," Tycho said. "Here's how it is. Iris came to me after she left England. We've been together about three months. She's cold, no joke intended, and I don't even think she wants me around. But at the same time, she refuses to leave me. I just wish she'd be honest."

"Good," Elsa said. "We can work with this. If you want honesty, here it is: I don't think Iris can handle being alone. I don't know what that implies about me, but I don't think we're the same in every way. But the point is, I think she's scared and she wants to be with someone, and anyone will do."

Tycho sighed and rolled his head back. He stared at the stars for a moment. In that moment, he looked deflated. Defeated. Perhaps a little relieved, even.

"Now this is the part where you tell me how you feel."

He waited for a long time. "Alright. I feel... free. Also, sad. You just said what I've been suspecting for weeks. And... well, thank you for telling me. Now I know."

"Good," Elsa said. "But you need to talk to her about it. And you need to understand her. That's what this is all about. You listen to us but you don't understand us."

"Unreal," Tycho said. "Am I supposed to feel guilty?"

Elsa jumped up from her seat. "No, Tycho! No one's blaming you for anything! You just need to focus on Iris for a minute, and figure out what comes next. That's what you need to worry about. And trust me, if Iris is cold and distant now, she'll always be that way. She's not going to suddenly start liking men... not if she's anything like me, at least. And whatever this thing is you have with her... That's no way to live."

Just then, they heard the sound of a horse trotting down the path. They looked downhill, and watched Lone Exner ride along the hillside, down towards Loptrsborg. A moment later, a group of mounted soldiers followed close behind.

"Ah, crap," Tycho said, hiding behind a tree. "That's him."

"Who?"

"Lone Exner. And if he was up here at the Mansion, then this isn't good."

"We've got to get back to town," Elsa said. "Right now."

* * *

Iris and Anna struggled to navigate the twisting maze of alleys. Like most European towns, Loptrsborg had grown organically over the course of centuries without any rhyme, reason, or plan. The network of deep canals cutting through the streets did not help matters in the slightest. Even when they could figure out which direction they wanted, they found themselves walking parallel to the canals in search of inconveniently placed bridges.

"You think this place was deliberately made to screw with us?" Anna asked. "Because that seems like something Hans would do."

"I don't know," Iris said. "I was wondering if its to keep people from rioting. They want choke points where they can corral everyone and control them."

Anna rolled her eyes. "You're so cynical."

"I prefer to think of it as honesty."

They walked in silence for a bit, weaving their way through a crowd of sailors and builders and butchers. She could always tell the butchers. This place stank of blood and fish as it was, but some of these people practically reeked of it. They were nothing like the village deli owner who served them lamb. These were men whose trade was carving up two-hundred ton sea Gods with industrial equipment. The only ones who stank worse were the men who rendered blubber and whale oil.

"When are you going to tell Tycho?" Anna asked.

"I'm not sure that I will."

"That's insane. You have to."

"Really?" Iris said. "And have him following me around like a lost puppy for the rest of my life? I don't think so. I... You know what? Never mind."

"Go ahead. Say it."

"I'm starting to think its kind of pathetic the way he follows you around. Like he keeps hoping that one day you'll love him back."

Anna bit her lip for a moment. "No," she said. "I don't think it's pathetic. I think it's flattering. And admirable. And I say that because I've been honest with him. He's not trying to impress anyone. He knows I'll never leave Elsa."

"Sure you will," Iris said.

"What?"

"My Anna did. Love isn't bulletproof. You'll see."

"Elsa was right," Anna said. "You are a nasty little ball of hate. Last I checked, you're the one that keeps stringing Tycho along... Never telling him how you really feel."

"Can that please be my business?" Iris asked.

"Fine," Anna replied, leading her across another iron-grate footbridge. "A truce, then. I don't judge and neither do you. And the first one to mention Tycho Halvdan gets punched in the face."

"Deal."

They walked on in silence for a few minutes. It had been hours, and they had completely failed to find housing that was even marginally acceptable. At this point, tired and frustrated, Iris was seriously beginning to wonder if the locals would notice the appearance of an ice palace on a mountaintop. And, not for the first time, she wondered if that is where she would end up one day, regardless.

"Hey," Anna said, touching her elbow. "Is that the guy Tycho was talking about?"

Lone Exner walked through the crowds. He stood in front of an apple cart and spent a considerable amount of effort in looking for one less than half rotten. He was much as Tycho had described him: Tall, dark, a militaristic blue coat, and an out-of-date tricorne hat. He did not look at the girls as they switched to the other side of the street.

Iris looked up, searching the skyline for the ugly church tower that served as their landmark. It looked to be some three hundred meters away. And as she looked up, she spotted a soldier standing on a balcony high above the street. Glancing about, she saw another to her right. In fact, they were surrounded. She looked back, and saw Exner remove his hat. Iris was not versed in espionage. But even she understood he had just given a signal.

"Anna, run!" she shouted.

At that instant, Iris spun around and opened her hands. There was a blue flash of light as arctic magic exploded from her finger tips. The soldiers practically leaped backwards as a sheet of ice appeared in front of her. Smoke and flame exploded from the barrel of a musket, and Iris flinched. The sound was deafening. It made her ears ring. When she opened her eyes, she was staring at a bullet lodged deep in her wall of ice. And it was spinning... Just spinning on its axis. Iris had neither the time nor the inclination to ponder ballistic physics. A second gunshot rang out, and her ice wall cracked. She turned and fled.

The sky suddenly turned dark. Snow blew horizontally on freezing polar winds. She prayed it would slow them down. The cobblestones were rough and uneven. She almost tripped once. Twice. She struggled to keep track of Anna as they ran through twisting streets and pushed their way through the panicked, shouting mob. Anna suddenly stopped in her tracks. She threw out an arm, catching Iris just before she ran off the edge of a canal. They both looked back. They saw a pair of tall bearskin shakos and rusted bayonet spikes pushing their way through the crowd.

"This way," Iris said. She leaped down into the canal. The brick-red slush turned to solid ice beneath her feet. Quickly kicking off her shoes, she took Anna by the hand and led her down the narrow, winding causeway. Ice expanded beneath her toes with every step, as smooth and perfect as glass. Anna struggled to keep her footing. She slipped and fell. Iris pulled her to her feet. However slippery it was for Anna, beneath Iris' bare toes the ice was as sure as stone. After a hundred meters they came to a bridge. A hand reached out for them.

"Elsa!" Anna shouted, as her sister helped her out of the canal.

"How did you find us?" Iris asked

"It was easy," she said. "I just looked for the eye of the storm. We need to go-"

Anna suddenly tackled Elsa to the ground. A gunshot rang out, and a piece of masonry exploded where here head had been a moment before. Lone Exner stood there, holding a smoking pistol. A soldier rushed past him, bayonet in hand, while he rotated the cylinder on his revolving flintlock. Blue light flashed from Iris' fingertips. Jagged spears of ice pierced the man in the chest. He tried to scream, but could only cough blood. Exner threw himself into a doorway.

The three women ran into an open courtyard.

The church tower loomed ahead of them.

"Don't stop!" Elsa cried.

* * *

Tycho Halvdan braced himself in the whirlwind of snow and ice. He could barely see what was happening. He shivered even in his jaeger's jacket and crouched with his rifle at the mouth of an alley. Three shapes emerged from the swirling snow, perhaps a hundred meters away. He knew them. And behind, perhaps another twenty meters, a soldier.

Tycho put the rifle to his shoulder. The snow stung his eyes and made them water. The wind was extreme. Even though he was crouched in the alley, it would throw off the path of his bullet. He placed his nose on the notch he had cut into the stock. His way of guaranteeing the proper eye relief. The front sight blade hovered somewhere near his target's right elbow. Tycho exhaled, and squeezed the trigger. The flint sparked against the frizzen. For the briefest fraction of a second, the priming charge ignited, and then came the deafening report and the sharp kick in the shoulder.

The man clutched his chest, and fell.

Anna stumbled on the uneven streets. Iris and Elsa pulled her back up. He could see more shapes moving through the blizzard, more of Prince Hans' soldiers.

No time.

Tycho pulled an undersized musket cartridge from his pocket. In perfect conditions, an expert could load in twelve seconds. These conditions were far from perfect, and Tycho was out of practice. He cocked the flint to the halfway point and bit open the paper wrapped, keeping the lead ball between his teeth. A little bit of powder went under the frizzen to serve as the priming charge. The rest he dumped down the barrel.

Faster... faster... Every step of the process seemed to stretch into eternity.

Thirty meters.

Tycho put his lips to the hot, smoky muzzle and spat his ball down the barrel. It was undersized enough that it would not grip the rifled grooves that imparted spin on the projectile. It would be less accurate, but he just didn't have the time. A quick tap of the butt stock on the ground packed the charge tight. Hopefully. He pulled the flint to full cock, returned it to his shoulder, and took aim.

Sixteen seconds.

But he wasn't counting.

Anna, Elsa, and Iris ran past him. Tycho looked through his sights, and saw Lone Exner. For the briefest second, he hesitated. Exner shouted something. He couldn't hear. His finger tightened on the trigger. Even in the middle of the magical blizzard, he broke out in a hot sweat.

"Don't," he whispered.

Exner didn't stop. He was holding a pistol.

Tycho squeezed. Bang.

Exner fell. His pistol discharged. Tycho heard the whip-snap of a ball passing by his head. Chipped stone struck his face as the ball ricocheted off the wall.

Even over the painful ringing in his ears, he heard Anna scream.

"No!" Elsa shouted.

Iris fell to the ground. Her legs kicked and twitched. She clawed at the cobblestones.

"Run!" Tycho yelled, throwing his rifle over his shoulder. He scooped up Iris in his arms. He could feel something hot and wet running through his fingers. She cried out again. And they ran, together, into the storm.

* * *

Iris screamed when Tycho set her on the bed. She lay on her chest. Her coat was covered in wet crimson. She was crying. Anna was crying. Elsa pretended to stand guard, but glanced over her shoulder almost every other second.

"What's going on?" Elsa hissed.

"Is she okay?" Anna sobbed.

"I need bandages," Tycho said. "Just... give me that shirt. And a knife."

"Oh God, you're not going to cut it out?"

"Anna!" he snapped. "I need you to focus. One thing at time. She needs you to be calm."

"There's so much blood... I never thought there'd be so much of it."

"Not helping!"

"It hurts," Iris hissed. "It hurts so bad. You don't even know."

Tycho pulled up her shirt. Blood was oozing from a hole in her lower back. Just to the left of the spine. God... there was so much of it. He put the shirt over the wound and pushed down. Iris screamed again.

"I'm going to hold it here until the bleeding stops. It's dark and it's not squirting. She won't bleed to death."

"Are you sure?" Anna cried.

Tycho thought about it. "Yes," he lied.

"Thirsty," Iris said.

"Just a little. Just wet her tongue. Otherwise she'll puke."

"Okay, okay, okay," Anna said. Elsa created a few snowflakes out of pure will, let them melt on a rag, and Anna pressed it against Iris's lips.

"Are we okay?" Tycho asked.

"No one's followed us," Elsa said. "We can talk about 'okay' later."

"Alright." He looked down at his hands. The shirt was almost soaked with blood. It was all over his hands. Every time he blinked his eyes, he saw Copenhagen after the British bombardment. He had seen worse. He had seen so much worse. A bead of sweat ran into his eyes. He wiped it, smearing blood on his face. For some reason, he thought of Lone Exner. They helped the wounded in Copenhagen... together. He had just shot his friend.

"Tycho..." Anna asked. "What do we do?"

"Elsa," he called. "I need you to take over." She arrived with a towel, and put more pressure on the wound. She was crying. Anna joined him in the corner of the room. "Okay," he whispered. "You want me to be honest?"

Anna bit her lip and nodded.

"I think the ball ricocheted off the wall. That will steal some of its momentum, so it might not be too deep. But we've got two problems. First, I don't know how deep it is. Hopefully its stuck in the flesh. If it got into her stomach-"

Anna suddenly sobbed.

"- there's a three-quarters chance she'll die. If it's shallow, she'll probably live."

"Okay, okay... and the second thing?"

"I have no idea what's in there. If it pulled any strings or bits of clothing into the wound, it has to come out. And there's only one way we can find out."

"Oh, God, no..."

"I need a probe."

Anna thought for a moment, and then quickly dug a crochet needle out of her knapsack.

"Iris?" Tycho whispered.

"Uh huh," she mumbled. Her face was red and wet.

"I need to have a look around in there. I need you on your side. Elsa, get me a candle."

"This this going to hurt?" Iris asked.

"Yes. Worse than anything you've ever felt. But we need you to be strong. Can you do that?"

Iris looked up at Anna.

"Yes."

"Okay, here we go." Tycho gentle rolled her on her side. Elsa held a candle as close as she dared. Dark blood dripped from the wound, but less so than before. Tycho took the needle and slid it into the hole as gently as he possibly could.

Tap.

Iris screamed into the pillow.

"It's okay," he said. "It's okay. Deep breaths. It's about an inch in there. It didn't pierce anything. Now I'm going to look for bits of cloth." He looked into the wound, and found the dark ball. He probed around the edges, trying to push the flesh aside. Iris cried and twitched with every poke and prod. He saw a piece of stained thread.

"It hurts so bad," she cried.

"I know it does..."

"The baby," Iris whispered. "The baby..."

Tycho froze. He stared down at her. Everything came together for him. Like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle all finally falling into place. A baby. Their baby.

"Tycho!" Elsa shouted. It broke the spell.

"Okay," he said. "This is going to have to come out. I can leave the bullet, but I can't leave the cloth in there."

"Yes, you can," Iris said.

Anna laughed, even through her tears.

Tycho quickly found a pair of needle nose pliers in his sack. "There's no good way to do this. Just give her a towel to bite on. Here we go."

Iris screamed again.

* * *

Lone Exner's life flashed before his eyes when the bullet struck him. He had heard of this phenomenon, but never believed any such thing was possible. To be fair, he didn't see his entire life. But he did see his wife, Nina, and his daughter, Anine, and that was enough to stop his heart. It was moments like this that he cursed his prodigious memory, because he recalled every horrible moment with perfectly clarity: The double-flash of the frizzen and barrel exploding as Tycho shot him... his own weapon discharging in his hand... the flickering images of his family wondering why he had to die in this stupid, cold place. But he did not die. His head swam. Purple lights danced in front of his eyes. His arm hurt with a pain unlike anything he had ever felt. But he did not die.

Instead, he shuffled his feet slowly through the gates of Mansion Salander. His left arm lay tied against his chest in a bloody sling. It did not drip. It was far too cold for that. The bullet had struck the inside of his bicep, taking with it an unpleasantly large amount of flesh and severing his ulnar nerve entirely. The entire bottom half of Exner's arm, to include his palm and last two fingers, was completely numb. Except, of course, for the unbelievable, mind-blowing pain. With time, he might one day be able to touch his thumb to his forefinger. But that was all.

"I warned you," Hans said.

"You didn't..." Exner hissed.

"Wow. You do look like crap, you know that? I mean, you look like you're about to pass out right now."

"There was so much snow..."

"Oh, and ice, right?" Hans poured a glass of wine and placed it on the table next to Exner. The wounded man ignored it completely. "Now, before you get mad at me, didn't I tell you to shoot her first? And you didn't, did you?"

"You should have told me."

"Would you have believed me? Seriously? You are rational man who believes in the value of empiricism. If I told you that she could literally shoot ice out of her hands, or control the weather, or any other random thing, would you have believed me? No. And if you thought I was a crazy person, would you have gone out there to look for her? Probably not."

Exner didn't say anything. He just ground his teeth together and tried to think about anything other than how much pain he was in. It was astonishing, explosive pain that made him want to die. Instead, he reached into his waistcoat, and opened a small locket. There were two paintings. One, his little girl, the other his wife. Both proud women. So very proud. Would they be proud if they could see him now?

"Tell me you at least found out where they went?"

"I..." he began. Thought better of it. Shut his mouth. "There was a blizzard."

A lie of omission.

"We lost them in the snow."

A half truth.

"I don't know where they are."

A blatant, total fabrication.

"And it's not like we'll be able to look for them until the snow clears..." Hans said, playing with his knife again. "There was some shooting," "Do you want to explain that part?"

"I saw one of them fall," Exner confessed. "The brunette."

"I don't know who that is. When did-"

The door to the office swung open. The Seneschal stood there, his deformed, drooping face crowned with an absurd powdered wig. He said nothing, but Hans grew very quiet.

"What is it?"

"The guest calls on you," the Seneschal said. His (its?) bubbling, phlegmy voice made Exner's skin crawl. But he did not have time to think about it. There was something new here. It was at that moment that Exner's heart skipped a beat and he realized he had spent years laboring under a terrible, flawed assumption.

Mansion Salander was a prison, but who ever said that Prince Hans was the warden?

"Excuse me," Hans said, standing up and donning a pair of white gloves. "I have other business. You can show yourself out. Take care of this. And don't let those women in here."

Hans left him, then, hurrying down the hall and up a flight of stairs. Exner took his hat in his remaining good hand. The Seneschal stood there, still, watching him with sallow, sunken eyes.

"Yes?" Exner asked.

" Mind you stay to the path," he-it reminded him, and then followed Hans deeper into the mansion.

Exner waited until he was alone. Then he stepped into the hall, glanced one way, and the other, and made his way down the hall towards the stairs. He had been in few of the first-floor rooms, but they appeared mostly given over the storage. Not one had he been to the second floor. He tried to block out the throbbing pain in his arm, using his remaining hand to lean on the bannister and pull himself up. The steps, like everything else in this place, seemed strangely out of kink. They sat at odd and inconsistent angles.

At the top of the stairs, he came to a door. He quickly checked the keyhole, put his ear to it, and hearing nothing, decided to take a chance. The door looked like it was made of wood, but it was unusually heavy. Exner had to put his good shoulder against it, and cracked it open just enough to squeeze through. He bumped his wounded elbow in the process and, biting his glove, did his best not to scream.

He stood before a great vault. It was a square door made of black iron with a single oversized padlock. Long hallways extended in both directions. The vault's side of the hall had nothing but rows of smaller iron doors. Opposite that, rows of wooden doors and empty rooms much like he had seen before. There was a jingling sound to his left; The Seneschal placed a ring of keys on his belt, opened a heavy metal door, and disappeared into it.

Exner took one glance behind him, and followed. The hallway looked strange to him. The drifting disorientation of vertigo struck him, and he had to place his hand on the wall to maintain his balance. The hall was somehow twisted. It reminded him of looking at the spiraled grooves of a rifle's barrel. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all parallel, and looked straight enough, but somehow drifted clockwise. He had to concentrate on placing one foot in front of the other.

When his hand touched a metal door, he heard a sudden growling noise. The door jolted as if struck from behind. Exner jumped back and drew the pistol from his belt. He did not cock it, and in fact he had not quite worked out how to accomplish that with one hand. Whatever was behind the door babbled and bubbled and purred all at once.

What was this place?

"Mister Exner," the Seneschal said. Exner spun to face him. "You have strayed from the path."

Exner gave him a swift boot to the chest. The creature fell backwards. As it tried to climb to its feet, Exner brought he brass cap of the pistol's grip down on its skull. There was no crack, just a wet squelching sound. Blood erupted from the creature's nostrils. Exner quickly stuffed the pistol in his belt, seized the keyring, and fled.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Elsa said. She sat on the floor, with her knees curled up against her chest. Her hands were dark and sticky. Anna placed a basin in front of her feet, took her hands, and washed them in wine. It didn't seem to help at first... It was just red on top of red; the smell of sour grapes mixed with copper.

"Why are you doing that?"

"Tycho said it fights disease," she explained. "Only a soldier would see someone get shot and think, 'Hey, let's poor some grog on that.'"

Elsa didn't smile. "I screwed this all up. I didn't think it would be like this. I thought we'd just waltz in, rescue our father, and freeze anyone that looked at us funny. I didn't think it would go wrong like this."

"I know. Neither did I." Anna sat next to her sister, resting her head against the wall.

"I killed someone today."

"And how do you feel about that?"

"I don't feel anything," Elsa said. Her eyes were open, but completely unfocused. If she was staring at anything, it was the horrible pictures in her mind. "I think I should feel bad. But I don't. They were trying to kill us. So it's like, 'Yep, that happened.' Just a matter of fact. And I feel like a horrible person for thinking I should be sorry but I'm not."

"I didn't think about that part, either," Anna said. "I just wanted my daddy back."

Elsa smiled. "I thought he was my daddy."

"Can we share?"

"Sure," she replied. "Everyone wins."

"Okay," Anna said. "Makes sense to me."

At that moment, Tycho emerged from the bedroom. He was wiping his hands with bloodstained rags. He pulled out a chair, sat, and just sort of stared into the distance. All three of them looked pitiful. Tired. Worn. Wrapped too tight and spread too thin.

"Is she okay?" Elsa asked.

He nodded, but didn't say anything. Instead, he just looked at the floor.

"Tycho," Anna said. "What's wrong?"

"She told me everything. About the baby, I mean. I'm just... She could have told me before."

Elsa nodded. "She could have. But she didn't. No point dwelling on it now. It's time to figure out what comes next. How do you feel about it?"

"I don't know yet. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. And I... I shot my friend today."

"What?" the sisters said in stereo.

"The man that was chasing you... the one I told you about. I shot him."

"I thought you shot lots of people," Elsa said.

Anna glared at her.

Tycho shook his head. "I've killed pirates. I think I killed a soldier out there. But I was never in a real battle. And I never killed anyone I knew. He... I remember he was a good guy. He just always wound up on the wrong side of things, somehow."

"Do you want to talk about it?" Anna asked.

He shrugged. "I met him in Copenhagen. The Danes sided with the French, so the British came in and destroyed their ships. I went down there to help. There were so many dead people. So much destruction. I... I had to watch men die. Exner was there, with me. And it was like, this weird thing where it felt like we were related or something, because we had been through something horrible together. Like when you share a secret nobody else will understand."

Elsa and Anna just looked at each other.

"But here's the thing..." he said. "Iris might be dying. She'll probably lose the baby. But Exner is the one I feel worst about... Isn't that screwed up?"

Anna got up and knelt in front of him. She took his hands in hers. They were not rough, callused hands, although they were much, much bigger than hers. There were still red stains on his fingers. And a black smear on his mouth.

"You've got soot on you," she said, touching his lip.

"It's powder. I bit open a cartridge."

"Look, you didn't keep any secrets from her. And you're not the one that hurt her. You did so much for Iris... more than she deserved, probably. You've got nothing to feel bad about. And if you feel bad about your friend, well... Tycho, you took care of us. And that's why we love you. Because we can count on you." She kissed him, then, and gave him a long, warm hug. He rested his head on her shoulder, and wept.

Elsa joined them. And for the first time forever she didn't feel any jealousy, or bitterness. Just love for her family, and this weird, unnameable thing that they shared.

* * *

"Hey," Iris whispered, looking up at Elsa. She didn't try to move her head. Her eyes were dark and sunken. Her skin was pale. They had heaped every blanket they could find on top of her, and when those ran out Elsa resorted to creating sheets of pure frost. Snow, as it turned out, made surprisingly effective insulation.

"How are you?" Elsa asked.

"I got shot," she said. "It sucked." Iris gently, carefully, tried to reach one arm above the cover. She failed. It was then that Elsa noticed she was doing this kind of constant squirming dance under the covers... Iris would shift her weight one way, then the other, as though there was a certain pose that would minimize the pain if only she could find it.

"Did Tycho take the bullet out?"

"He called it a ball. And no. He just... I don't know what he did back there. It hurt."

"Well," Elsa said. "I guess it doesn't have to come out. How long has he had that bullet in his leg?"

"I don't know. Math hurts right now. I want to sleep but I can't."

"Do you want to get drunk? It might help."

Iris looked over at the almost-empty bottle of wine on her nightstand. She stared at it for a long second, still without moving her head.

"No," she finally decided. "The baby."

"Okay," Elsa said. "But we've got a problem."

Iris gave her a cold look. The kind of look that said, 'Your anatomy doesn't include a lump of lead, so how bad could it be?' People said twins had a weird way of knowing what the other was thinking. They had nothing on alternate universe clones.

"If we're going to go find Father, we have to go now. Tycho says we don't have time to wait. They'll come looking for us. For you."

"Since when do you do what Tycho wants?"

"I don't," Elsa said. "It's just that this one time we finally found something we agree on."

Iris closed her eyes and sighed..

"It'll be okay. We just can't stay here any longer than we have to."

"I can't get back on the ferry," Iris said. "Not yet."

"We'll figure something out."

"Are you going?"

Elsa looked away. "I... I don't think I want to."

"Don't say that!" Iris hissed. She immediately winced at the pain. Perfect diamond tears appeared at the corners of her eyes. She gasped, but forced herself to look at her twin with wide, wet, pleading eyes. "Please don't say that!"

"I don't want to leave you," Elsa said, holding Iris's hand. "I know its weird. I don't get it, either. And if I go I'm... I'm probably going to have to hurt people again. And I don't want to do that."

"Remember when Anna came climbing up the mountain to find you and bring you home?" Iris asked. "People told her not to do it. She didn't listen. And when things went wrong she didn't stop because she couldn't give up. She needs you to do this. You need to keep going for her. Bring her daddy home. You need to be a family again."

"_We _need to be a family," Elsa nodded. "Are you sure you'll be okay? I can't leave you behind."

"It's okay," Iris whispered. "I've got fresh socks." She gently tapped her toes together under the covers.

Elsa giggled, just a little bit.

"Besides, there's nothing more you can do for me. Go find a surgeon if you like. What's he going to do? Bleed me? Apply leeches to weird places? No thank you. I'll take my chances."

"And the baby?"

"The baby will live or die and there's nothing any of us can do about it."

"Okay," Elsa said, and kissed her forehead. "Sleep if you can. We'll be back as soon as possible."

"Wait!" Iris hissed. "My bag. You'll need it."

Elsa hesitated just a second, then opened Iris's bedroll. There was a sword inside. It was an crude, ugly thing. A Viking weapon, unpolished and gray as slate. She could see the shifting colors where long iron rods had been twisted together by a primitive blacksmith. It was her sword. Its name was Nothung.

"You brought this?"

Iris nodded. "Take it. And bring them home. Please bring them home."

* * *

Tycho, Elsa, and Anna stood together in the darkness of the night. Behind and below them, Loptrsborg glowed in strange shades of amber and purple light. Elsa carried the sword Nothung on her shoulder. Tycho clutched his Baker rifle tight against his chest. He had a pistol in his belt, and a cartridge box slung across his body. The second pistol he handed to Anna.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" she asked.

"It's a gun," Tycho said. "Just point and shoot."

"This one looks weird."

"It's a doglock," he explained. "It's just an older mechanism. There's no half-cock position, you have to manually engage the catch before you load it."

"I have no idea what any of those words mean," Anna confessed.

"Don't worry about it," Elsa said. "Just stay back and hide. If anyone comes after you, shoot them. Then run."

They walked on, through the cold and lonely dark. They did not speak again for a long time. The mountain road was long and winding, and in the dark of night it was rather treacherous. Somewhere in the darkness an owl called out to them. The world was black. As the pit, from pole to pole, as the old poets said. And then, out of the dark, they saw the glow of a flickering candle. Dark, wet eyes sparkled in the light.

Tycho took aim.

Lone Exner stepped forward to meet them.

"Tycho," he said.

"Exner."

"I've been shot once today. I'd rather you didn't make it twice."

"And why shouldn't he?" Elsa asked.

Anna looked at her sister in surprise.

Exner took a deep breath. "Tycho," he began. "Elsa... I am a smart man. I know this. If I was even the slightest bit less so, I would be picking cotton in Virginia right now. But there was one question I could never answer. Given the premise that I am a smart man, how do I continue to make stupid, stupid choices? I've been hitching myself to one master or another my whole life and somehow I always wound up on the wrong side of things.

"And after you shot me, I had something of an epiphany. I realized that if I died that day, my wife would have to explain to my little girl how her father died a stupid, wasteful death in the service of evil, evil men. I resolved then that I would be Captain of my soul. Even if I steered myself straight into the rocks."

No one knew what to say to that.

"Also," he said. "I brought you some keys." The keyring dangled from the finger of his bad hand.

Elsa looked at Tycho.

Tycho nodded, and lowered his rifle.

"Alright," Elsa said. "Show us where to go."

* * *

The Mansion Salander was busy. No fewer than twelve soldiers stood guard. Half of them huddled around a small campfire. Their weapons rested in a stack, leaning against each other like tent poles. A handful milled around on the balcony, or patrolled the ramparts. A cold breeze swept through the courtyard. The flames twisted and writhed in the grip of a sudden polar wind. One of the guards stood up, shivering, and looking about as snow began to fall. For just a moment they all stared up a the sky, before a wall of frost and hail exploded across the island.

Elsa stood unafraid before them all. Snow surrounded her in a twisting whirlwind of frost. She held out her arms and let the polar wind lift her off the ground. A mile to the east, the sea turned to ice. To the west, a pack of wolves cowered and whined in their den. Right there, in the courtyard, a mighty oak shivered and fell. Elsa _was_ the eye of a great and mighty storm.

"I am one with the wind and sky..." she whispered. "I am one with the wind..."

The soldiers panicked and ran for their weapons. The stack blew over in the wind, and they ducked and slipped and scrambled. One picked up a musket. Shivering fingers cocked the flint, and he turned to bravely face the Snow Queen.

Tycho was faster. He dropped to one knee, shouldered his Baker rifle, and fired in one smooth motion. Elsa flinched at the deafening sound and the great cloud of white smoke. The man fell, but did not die. He screamed and clutched at his chest while it made bubbling noises. Tycho's ears were ringing painfully, but he could still hear it.

Another man on the balcony took aim, but Exner dropped him with a single round from his pistol. He passed the smoking weapon off to Anna, letting her rotate the cylinder and cock the flint for him, before he fired again.

Then, clutching the sword Nothung, Elsa walked into the melee. Three men charged her with bayonets. They didn't stand a chance. Sheets of ice suddenly materialized on her body, a flickering blue glow resolving itself into transparent armor. She took a ball in the chest, and it fractured her breastplate but she did not fall. Instead, the sword danced in her hand. The edge, though appearing dull and chipped, effortlessly cut a musket's barrel in half. The man stared at the glowing, smoking metal, while Elsa dragged the sword across his leg. He dropped, and but she did not stop. The second man thrust with his bayonet. She turned it aside with an ice-mailed fist. Nothung swung around in a great arc, pulling her into a spin and removing her enemy's arm.

The third soldier raised his weapon to shoot her in the back. Tycho flipped his rifle in his hands and swung it like a club. The man fell, spitting teeth on the ground. Tycho dropped his rifle and drew his pistol, firing into the darkness before scooping up the fallen man's musket. She did not see whether he hit anyone. Instead, she ran through the front door and down the long hall.

Tycho huddled in the doorway. When he glanced around the corner, a musket ball destroyed a piece of the door frame. Splinters cut open his forehead. He quickly checked his purloined musket's frizzen, moved into a first floor room, and fired through window.

"Don't stop!" he shouted. Two more musket balls burst through the walls. Each one made a terrifying whip-snap noise as it passed his head.

She didn't. Instead, she ran upstairs as fast as she could.

The jaeger followed her inside and crouched behind a sofa on the first floor. Tycho moved swiftly from room to room, never firing from the same window twice. Every time he squeezed the trigger, his weapon coughed up a great cloud of smoke and sparks. This invariably attracted a half dozen balls tearing up the windowsill and furniture around him. Then, there was an absurd twenty-second delay while everyone involved reloaded at the same time.

Tycho had also discovered to his displeasure that the rifle he acquired was a French Charleville. He regretted dropping his Baker. Hell, even his old Danish 1807 would have been better than this. There was one silver lining, though. The Charleville's larger caliber gave his smaller British bullets an extra one-point-five millimeters of windage. They rolled down the barrel like a penny tossed in a well. And at this particular time and place, he was inclined to place more value on speed over accuracy. The only problem was he had to keep the barrel pointed up or it would literally roll out.

His entire world smelled like ash and sulfur.

"Tycho!" Exner shouted.

"Stay down!" he yelled back. He rose and aimed the weapon out a window while maintaining a healthy distance from it. Then he did a funny little dance where he moved back and forth, trying to find new angles from which to shoot. When he finally did squeeze off a round, he immediately fell to the floor before a pair of balls perforated the walls in response.

"Hang on!" Tycho said. "I thought you were outside!" He quickly bit open a new cartridge and primed the pan. Loading a musket in a sitting position took special talent.

"I was," Exner replied. He crouched behind a box, aimed out a window and fired. "The sister ran inside! I couldn't stop her!"

Tycho cursed, dropped his musket, and rose. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"Just go, " Exner said, handing him a pistol. "I'm right behind you."

* * *

Elsa stood in front of the great and terrible vault. Her ice armor melted off her body with a thought. She stepped forward, clutching Nothung in one hand and the keys in the other. The biggest lock deserved the biggest key, she figured. Holding it up in the dim candle-lit hall, she did not hesitate to slide it into the hole and turn.

"Elsa!" Hans shouted.

She spun, and leveled her sword at his throat. He was not as he she remembered him. The years had been cruel. And he held nothing in his hands.

"You!" she hissed. "Where is my father?"

"He's inside the vault," Hans confessed.

Overwhelmed with rage, Elsa immediately stabbed him in the leg. Hans fell to one knee, screaming and bleeding. The Snow Queen stood over him, bloodied sword in hand.

"How long has he been here?" she asked.

Hans gripped his leg as tight as he could. His white gloves quickly turned crimson. After a moment, he took a few deep breaths, and looked up at her with his one remaining eye.

"It's not what you think..." he gasped.

She raised the sword to strike him down.

"Elsa!" Anna screamed. "Don't!" She ran up the uneven stairs to meet her sister.

"Why not?" Elsa shouted back, over the crackle of gunfire. "I thought this is what you wanted!"

"I thought I did," Anna said, with tears streaming down her face. "And I'm sorry. But you can't do this... Please don't... It's not worth it."

"This man tried to kill us!" She lowered the sword and took a step toward her sister. "Iris told me to keep you safe. And that's what I'm going to do. Let me take care of _you_ for once!"

"No," Anna gasped, crying uncontrollably. "Look at yourself!"

She did. Her arms were splattered with crimson. It was on her legs. On her sword. On her face. She was a goddamned Valkyrie. A Shield-Maiden of the Gallows God. But she was not Elsa. Not anymore.

"Tycho does what he has to do," Anna sobbed. "And so did you. But it's over now. If you have to kill him to get our father back then it's not worth it. I know what I said, but I was wrong to say it. I love you, Elsa... Please don't turn into someone you're not."

Elsa looked at her bloody, dripping sword, and dropped it to the floor.

Tycho came jogging up the stairs behind her.

"Is Exner still alive?" she asked.

"I think so."

"Did we win?"

"There are fewer balls coming through the wall now. I think so, yes."

"Alright," Elsa said. She grabbed the lock once more, twisted the key, and broke open the shackle. The vault door swung open of its own accord. At first, there was nothing but darkness. Darkness, and then a strange green glow.

"What is this?" Anna asked.

"This is the Infinite Prison," Hans said. "You don't want to know what's inside. Please don't go. You're going to ruin everything."

"Tycho," Elsa said, glancing over her shoulder. "Guard the door. If he complains, do something horrible. Is that okay, Anna?"

"I'm good with it," her sister said.

Elsa took a deep breath. Then, taking her sister by the hand, she walked into the vault.

* * *

"This is unreal," Anna said.

They stood in the middle of a great circular room. No, not circular... _spherical_. The walls looked like a honeycomb. Each cell housed one person... or animal... or thing... each shielded behind a wall of glowing green light and held in place by their own independent gravity. Even the cells directly above them had floors oriented perpendicular to the ground, and the residents stood at a right angle to the floor.

The sheer array of hideous things was stunning. Some prisoners looked much like men. One wore a tailcoat and high collar. Others looked more like vikings. They saw Jotunn and the dark elves, the dwarves and gray-skinned orcs. Then there were the stranger things... the less readily identifiable things that shuffled and squirmed and made gibberish noises from many frothing mouths. Beasts with animal heads and rolling, giggling stomachs. Dire wolves that flickered like shadows cast by a sun in some dimension they could not perceive. Razor-clawed cats that occupied all possible quantum states at once.

"No, Anna Summer-Born," a voice said. "This is quite real."

There, in the center of the room, stood Adgar II of Arendelle.

"Father!" Anna said she tried to run to him, but Elsa seized her arm and pulled her back.

"Wait!" Elsa cried. "What is this?"

Adgar stepped towards the light. He was precisely as she remembered him. He wore a dark suit and carried a gold-tipped cane. His face was unblemished by any scars or wrinkles. He still kept his sandy hair combed to the right, and a pencil-thin mustache graced his lip. In the twelve years since he had vanished at sea, he had not aged a day. He set the cane aside, and held out his arms to his daughters.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I'm your father, Elsa. Please don't hate me. I was delayed... lost at sea... and by the time I found myself free, you were gone. I didn't have you, or a kingdom, or anything."

"But _who_ are you? And what is this place?"

Adgar lowered his hands. He adjusted his cravat, and with a wave of his hand summoned a glass of wine. He took a slow sip. Was he stalling? Steeling himself? Trying to find the words to explain to a child who long thought him dead?

"You may want to find a seat," he said. "I have many difficult things to explain." When they did not move he continued, "Adgar of Arendelle is my most recent name. I was born Sigmund of Asgard. I am thirteen hundred years old."

"Impossible!" Elsa said.

"Impossible?" he asked. "Extraordinary, perhaps. My wife's name was Signy. She is also of the Aesir. A long time ago, the Allfather Gallows-God led the Aesir in a war on the Vanir. When things went poorly, he and Freyr decided to split reality. This world would forever belong to the Vanir. The mirror world would belong to the Aesir."

"I don't understand," Anna said. "Is this why Elsa has magic?"

"No," Adgar continued. "That came at the command of the Allfather. You see... we displeased him. Signy was my sister. Although I did not meet her until late in my life, we loved each other very much. Wotan did not approve. There were some people among the Vanir who married brother to sister. Njordr and his twin sister Freyja, for instance, were the parents of the Vanir Freyr. Regardless, this was not practiced among the Aesir.

"Wotan gave us two punishments. First, when he divided reality we were also divided. I was forced to remain in this world, the Vanir world. I was to conceal myself as a mortal so I would not be discovered by Freyr or any of the other Vanir. Signy, my sister-bride, lived on the other side of the divide. Wotan's second punishment was that we were each commanded to bear a daughter with the power of Ice and Storm."

"What?" Elsa said. "What do you mean a punishment?"

"We were commanded to bring about the end of the worlds."

Elsa and Anna just looked at each other. Neither knew what to say about that.

"I bore you, Elsa Winter-Born. You were intended to bring about the Fimbulvinter... That is what they call the last ice age that will precede the coming of Ragnarok. But I loved you so much that I refused to let you be a pawn of Wotan. I also fathered your sister, Anna Summer-Born. She is your balance and your counterweight."

"Ummm... I don't have any magic. Also, I'm pretty sure you didn't know what was going on with Elsa any more than I did."

"There were certain things that had to be concealed," he explained. "Your mother was mortal, remember? Also, while I obeyed Wotan, even I did not understand the nature of Elsa's power. And while you may not have magic you do have a heart full of love and devotion. And if I'm not mistaken, that love has saved the world more than once, has it not?"

"So then who is Iris? I mean, the Elsa from the other world. She calls herself Iris, here."

"Interesting," Adgar said. "That means she is born of Signy. Signy took a mortal husband, and bore him an Elsa and an Anna just as I did."

"That makes no sense," Elsa said. "Are you saying Wotan wanted to bring about the end of both worlds?"

"Possibly. Or maybe he intended for her to be a weapon he could deploy against the Vanir, in the event that I foiled his scheme. Which I did. And as I recall, it got rather cold a few months back, didn't it?"

"I think I'm going to be ill," Anna whispered.

"So what is this, then?" Elsa asked. "Is this your punishment for defying the Gods?"

"Elsa," Adgar said. "I am not a prisoner here. I am the Warden." He took another sip as he allowed that thought to sink in. "All of these creatures are my prisoners. They are servants of the Aesir. Or minions of Surtr, the Ice Giant who will wield a flaming sword at world's end. Or they are simply Xothic abominations who prey on mortal men and drive them mad with revelation. For many years Freyr himself had the task of guarding them. After I was lost at sea and saw my Kingdom cease to be, he offered me the task."

"Then what is Hans doing here?" Anna snapped.

"He is my prisoner. I allow him a certain amount of freedom, but he can never leave the Mansion Salander. He assists me."

"But he tried to kill us!" she shouted.

"And for that crime, he will remain here until the last star dies of entropy."

"This is horrible," Elsa said, cupping her hand over her mouth.

"This?" Adgar said. "The world is horrible. The world is cruel and full of evil, evil men. I do this to keep you safe _from _people like Hans. I'm going to take care of you even if you don't see me, even when you don't know I'm here, because I am your father and I love you... And if a father can't keep his children safe from the horrors of the world, what does he have left?"

Elsa and Anna looked at each other again.

"I'm sorry I can't come with you," Adgar said.

"Why not?" Anna asked. "Why can't you leave this behind and be our father again?"

"Because this is my place and my duty. Freyr is my jarl and he has my troth. I am not a slave. I have chosen this task and set myself to it. Surely you understand what duty asks of us?"

"Yes," Elsa said, swallowing hard. "We do."

"I trap the servants of darkness here so that man might know an age of light and reason. Anna's task is to resist the forces of Wotan and hold off the Fimbulvinter. Tycho's task is to die, so that he may one day be Marshal of the Einherjar and do battle with Surtr himself. And yours, Elsa, my child... Your task is to build a better world. A perfect, diamond world without fear or pain or iron. Do that for me, and your father will be greatly pleased."

A tear rolled down Elsa's cheek.

He embraced them both, and they wept. Not many children get the chance to understand their fathers. Or know that their fathers truly understand them. For this, among so many other reasons, Elsa and Anna were truly blessed.

"You should go now," Adgar said. "Your friends will need you. And send in my prisoner. I would have words with him."

* * *

Out of the night that covers me,

Black as the pit from pole to pole,

I thank whatever gods may be

For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance

I have not winced nor cried aloud.

Under the bludgeonings of chance

My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears

Looms but the horror of the shade,

And yet the menace of the years

Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,

How charged with punishments the scroll,

I am the master of my fate,

I am the captain of my soul.

-William Ernest Henley, _Invictus,_ 1888

* * *

**Epilogue**

It was March when Elsa and Anna returned to Plöner Schloss, and it was a warm spring day when they walked through the royal gardens with the Crown Princess Rapunzel. They brought friends. Lone Exner was with them, and his wife, Nina. Their daughter, Anine, chased butterflies with Anna. Exner had regained some use of his hand, just enough to carry a teacup between his thumb and forefinger. He watched his daughter run and jump and play. There would be times, long after he was dead, that Europe would be wracked with pain and war and madness. But those days were far in the future, and for now, he could rest.

"You didn't find what you were looking for?" Rapunzel asked.

"I think we did," Elsa said, handing her the magic compass. "It wasn't what we expected. But I suppose it is what we needed. Also, I didn't start any wars or free any French dictators. So you don't have to worry about that."

"I didn't, really. You know, I always thought it was sad we didn't spend more time together. I mean, the three of us spent our childhoods by ourselves... And for somewhat similar reasons. We should write a book or something. It could be called, _Musings on Utter Boredom_."

"After what we've been through, we're looking forward to boredom."

"That sounds nice," Rapunzel said. She picked a flower, and then plucked at the petals one by one. "I could use a vacation. We're still trying to bring all these states and Electors and duchies into the German Confederation. Factories are putting people out of work. The Bundesvammerlung keeps passing insane decrees. It stresses me out."

"I think I know someone who can help." She nodded to Tycho Halvdan, who was engaged in a particularly animated conversation with Lone Exner. "He's lonely. He went through a bad break-up recently. He was about to be a father, but the mother was hurt and lost the baby to an infection. She left him a few weeks ago... We're not even sure where she is now. It's just as well, I suppose. They were never right for each other. Anyway, his German is awful, but we can fix that."

"Elsa," Rapunzel sighed. "I don't need a new husband."

"No," she said. "You need a helper. And that's the one thing Tycho is great at. He'll talk about wars and politics and history for hours if you let him. He's the most dependable person I know. And he's completely predictable, even though he'd never admit it."

"This is funny," Rapunzel said with a smile. "I don't remember us ever talking about men."

Elsa shrugged. Then she stopped, and watched Anna play with the little girl.

"Where are you going next?"

"Home," Elsa said. "I've been shirking some of my duties. We need to go home."

"Back to England?"

"No. Arendelle."

* * *

**END**

_Thank you so much for reading. Please remember that reviews are author-fuel and I need them to live. The story continues in 'The Ravens of Asgard.'_


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